


we sink

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [27]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18956266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: Grace landed on top of him ungracefully, knocking all the wind out a second time. She squeaked out a small, “Sorry!” and scrambled into a sitting position, sitting back on his legs with a worried look crossing across her face. “Sorry, baby! Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?” she asked, leaning forward to cup his cheek.“I’m fine,” Shark wheezed out. “T’was a noble death, if any. I’ll die here safe and happy. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain before I bleed out.”She narrowed her eyes at him, moving her hand away. If he's being honest, he probably wouldn't die there. It would be more ironic if he drowned.





	we sink

**Author's Note:**

> remember shark's girlfriend? i wish they talked about her more in canon ngl

Grace tugged on his hand, stumbling over the grass and scattered rocks and branches, making faces whenever she stepped on one. He himself was swerving around, trying to avoid them—trying not to let go of her hand. 

The ground in front of them has a sharp drop and without noticing they both stumbled over it, shrieking as they fell. Shark landed on his back, hard, all the wind knocked out of him and even more rocks digging into his back. Probably drawing blood.

Grace landed on top of him ungracefully, knocking all the wind out a second time. She squeaked out a small, “Sorry!” and scrambled into a sitting position, sitting back on his legs with a worried look crossing across her face. “Sorry, baby! Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?” she asked, leaning forward to cup his cheek.

“I’m fine,” Shark wheezed out. “T’was a noble death, if any. I’ll die here safe and happy. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain before I bleed out.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, moving her hand away. “Sure. If I left right now, you wouldn’t trail after me like a sad little puppy. And you definitely won’t whine if I didn’t come and cuddled you right before you died. I absolutely believe this, totally.”

Shark laughed, curling a finger around one of her corkscrew auburn curls. “You got me there,” he admitted, “but you’d be gone without my cooking. I’m never letting you make cookies again, you nearly burned down our apartment, I thought our neighbors were gonna evacuate the building out of fear.”

“Their fault for being afraid of a little smoke!”

Before he could retort with something, probably terrible, his mom glanced up from where she was on the picnic table, a book resting in her hands. “Both of you, over here,” she barked, amusement in her voice. “This event isn’t for you two to flirt, it’s for fun and family bonding! Remember this, won’t you two?”

“Of course, Mrs. Andrews,” Grace called before reluctantly climbing off of Shark, straightening out her skirt and offering a hand out to him. He took it gratefully and brushed off his back, feeling small scratches littering the skin. 

“Better not piss off your mom too much, she lets me come over and eat everything out of her pantry, I don’t want to lose that,” Grace said in amusement. Then quickly added, “Also I like, love her,” after his mom gave her a sharp look. Shark tried to cover up his snort with his hand and failed. “Also I can bitch to her whenever you refuse to cook your wonderful girlfriend breakfast.” After that, she took off towards some of his cousins, with Shark sputtering in protest after her and his mom watching on in amusement.

“Some of your other cousins are over there,” she said, eyes twinkling. “They’re daring each other to jump off the drop. Better see who breaks first.”

Shark jogged over to them. His cousins were, in fact, leaning over the drop, daring each other in hushed voices. “Dare you to do a backflip,” his oldest one said to his youngest, a boy of just twelve, looking out of place with just five feet to his name and a lifejacket strapped to his chest.

“I can’t do a backflip!” he snapped back, whirling on the oldest, who grinned.

“Not with that attitude you can’t! Come on, I double dog dare you. If you don’t do it I’m gonna tell all the kids in sixth grade that you’re a huge pussy.”

Shark turned back to his mom, to see if she was seeing this, but all she did was scoff and mutter, “Boys,” under her breath and go back to her book. It would be up to Shark then to either tell them to lay off or prove himself to them by jumping off or doing those two in that order, probably. His stomach dropped.

One of them, a more distant relative—and the only one his exact age—jerked his head up and saw him. “Hey, Shark!” he called out. “Your name is literally Shark. I say you go first to jump off!”

“Come on,” he whined as he walked over to them, leaning over the drop as the well. “That’s like, fifteen feet. I don’t know how cold that water is. I’m not doing that, you guys can call me a pussy all you want, I refuse. For now.”

His cousins laughed behind him. “C’mon, are you scared?” one of them teased.

“What? No, I just don’t want to get my ass soaked at the minute. I’m not gonna walk around with damp pants the rest of the day—”

Without any further warning, one of them (the oldest, he later learned, the absolute bastard) ran forward and shoved him as hard as possible with their shoulders, sending him flying off the edge and plummeting towards the water as the rest of them cheered from above. He knew it was going to happen, but it was still annoying as he braced for impact and the water of the lake below him.

He hits the water hard, much harder than he thought and instantly starts sinking. It’s like the depths are pulling him, dragging at his clothes and begging with hooked claws to sink him down. Shark flips, turns, stares up at the light of the sun shining through the water and feels water fill his nose. 

Another body hits the water as well—not sinking, like Shark did, but instead swimming, making its way towards him with an unidentifiable and blurry look on its face. They hold out a hand and he grabs it, gratefully, as the two of them kick their way to the surface.

He emerges, coughing and spitting water. AK blinks salty water from his eyes like tears. “What the hell was that for?” he squeaks out, nose burning.

“There was no other way,” AK responds soberly, “the horde would’ve gotten us, had we not jumped. It was the only reasonable option at the moment.”

Shark looks up and sees the last traces of the horde walking away, sulking as their prey float around in the water below. “Yeah, but you could’ve at least given me some warning. Bro, I might’ve fucking drowned. How would you feel if I fucking drowned.”

“Your name is literally Shark, you wouldn’t have drowned. Come on, let’s get to shore, I don’t want Ghetto to rip into me even more than he’s already gonna do for splitting up. Not to mind that we’ll probably  _ freeze to death _ if we stay out any longer.”

He glares at AK, but they do swim back to one of the docks, Shark just behind him. They pull themselves up and Shark flops onto the wood surface, moaning gratefully to finally be out of the water, on solid land,  _ not having to kick his legs any longer. _ AK grabs his ponytail in both hands and twists with a cross look on his face, both of them soaked through.

Ghetto reaches them first, after they had pulled themselves to their feet and stumbled away from the edge. He skips down, freezes, then sprints towards them, something like murder in his eyes. Shark winces.

“What the fuck were you two thinking?” he calls as he slows, fists clenching. “For a second, we thought you two had been fucking murdered by that horde. What was that whole thing you were preaching earlier about ‘not fucking splitting up,’ AK? Was that speech for absolutely nothing?”

“I didn’t think we would need to split up,” AK says, crossly. “Apparently, we did, for all of us to escape.”

“Not in one piece,” Shark adds.

“Yeah, I can  _ fucking  _ see, you two are fucking drenched,” Ghetto says, “I’m offering neither of you a spare blanket tonight and you’re not allowed to guilt Nick into him giving you guys one of his. I’ll know and I will take it back.”

“Eat shit,” AK says.

“You eat shit! You were the one who sprinted off with like, fifteen fucking walkers on your heels! I’m not the dumbass who plays with life and death!”

AK takes a step forward. Shark can sense a fight brewing. “At least  _ I’m  _ not the one to—”

The brewing fight is broken up as Nick skitters down to the dock, staring at both of them with wide eyes before breaking into a smile. “You guys are okay!” he calls, and sprints over to almost barrel Shark over in a hug.

“Barely,” Shark rasps, noting the way Ghetto glares at him as Nick pulls away, sweater also soaking through. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, eyes twinkling. “I thought I had fucking died and gone to purgatory when AK shoved me into the water. Thought I went to watery hell, that Poseidon was calling me from the depths.”

“No, you didn’t,” AK snapped.

“You can’t prove it!” Shark shot back.

“God, you two are freezing!” Nick exclaims, shaking his sweater dry. “We should get back. You two are going to get hypothermia like that, and the horde’s probably gonna come back with night falling soon, and then we would have two problems to—”

“Jesus, Nick, let them breath for a second,” Ghetto says, apparently shaking off whatever resentment he had earlier with a small smile doting his face. “We should at least give them a chance to shake themselves off like dogs or something. Let AK whip his hair back and forth and fling all the water out like a shower commercial.”

“I’ll shove you into the water too, see how you like it.”

“No, you won’t.” Nick whirls on him, hands on his hips. AK drops his gaze and mutters a low, “Sorry, Nick,” before taking a step back away from a smug Ghetto. “And we’re going. Now.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Shark says, cold already starting to seep into his bones. He’ll be glad to get out of this fucking wind—Greenfield was always cold and damp, this time of year, right before Summer really gripped its claws in.

Nick presses against his side as they walk back to the apartment and he's thankful for the extra warmth. (Not thankful for the small shiver Nick develops on the way home.)

-

Shark sits in front of a fire, hands rubbing together tightly as Ghetto recounted his and Nick’s experience away from them, with the horde. He and AK are both dry now, but it’s still fucking cold out, and the fire had still just gotten set up. He’s trying to hide it, but AK is shivering, too, hands clasped in his hands with a thin line on his face.

AK keeps shooting back Ghetto’s claims with disbelief and scorn, and Shark’s sure that Ghetto’s about to wrestle him into a headlock and keep him there until he relents and admits that whatever Ghetto’s saying is true and he has never told a lie in his life, no sir, absolutely not, a liar? Ghetto? Never!

He almost jumps out of his skin as soft fabric is wrapped around his shoulders, drooping down to his chest. The blanket is a dark blue (like the sea, he realizes with humor). He utters a soft thanks as Nick wonders away from him and rests a different one across the shoulders of AK, who leans back with a huff and lets himself be wrapped around in it. “Thanks, Nick,” he murmurs, mimicking Shark’s earlier words. Ghetto’s gaze goes between Nick and the two of them, his earlier words about the blankets obviously ringing in his ears, but he can’t really say anything in front of Nick, so he doesn’t do anything. (Other than wrapping an arm around Nick when he takes a seat next to him. Maybe a,  _ “fuck them, I’ll be your blanket,” _ Shark thinks.)

It was like that time at the picnic and drop after his cousin had shoved him off a cliff and Grace had thrown at least five different towels over him before he had to beg her to stop, it was too hot out for this, giggling as she scowled and threw over a sixth one.

“What are you smiling about over there?” AK asks, looking at him.

Shark pulls himself from the memory and shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, and pulls the blanket tighter around himself, Ghetto looming like a protective force, the fire flickering, reflecting in the shine of Nick's eyes.


End file.
